Falling Fast
by Mika Minx
Summary: It was hard to believe that they hadn't spoken in three years. He'd hate what she was now." Some Kataang and implied Sukka, but mainly how the Gaang deals with Katara's death. Rated for suicide and language. Modern AU. Please R
1. Chapter 1

The cold night air was still down below, but on top of the New York penthouse, Katara felt a small breeze blow her dark brown tousles to the side. Her blue eyes watched the cars whiz by about four-hundred feet below. She was mezmerised for one moment by the lights dancing before her eyes. Out here on the deck was much better than being inside.

So much had changed since those days of high school. She hadn't spoken to her brother in months, even though he lived in the same town. Sure, she was Manhattan and she was SoHo, but she still missed those times where she could talk to him about anything. She was scared for anyone to know who she was now. She missed Toph, her best friend ever since she ran into her in the library one day, Toph looking for the gym. At first Katara couldn't believe that a blind girl could be on the wrestling team, but she soon proved her wrong.

And then there was Aang. They'd been together since he started high school. At first Sokka didn't approve, but Katara cared nothing about that. Aang was always there for her, no matter what. Well, she was sure he wouldn't love her the way things were now. No one in their right mind could. Aang was probably off at Wofford like he said he'd be. He'd be in his freshman year now. It was hard to believe that they hadn't spoken in three years.

Derrick was inside; Katara's boyfriend. He'd brought her into his apartment one rainy day about a year ago when she couldn't find her key. It all went downhill from there. At first Derrick was the ideal boyfriend, always thinking up romantic ideas like picnics in central park and giving her roses. But then he began to change. Katara started noticing more and more that the wine she'd buy on the rare Saturday was gone almost the next day, and his apartment stunk of liquor. This was also about the time that apparently she couldn't do anything right. Katara was still in touch with her brother at this time, and soon he began questioning about the bruises and scars on his sister's arms and face. She dismissed the idea, and when he kept prodding, she dismissed their communication ,

The 21-year-old put her wrist down on the pole barrier wrong, and felt a searing pain enter her nervous system via a bruise on that wrist. They were having a New Year's Party, one of Derrick's friends. She didn't even have a clue where she was; Derrick wouldn't tell her. She had come outside to get some fresh air; the apartment smelled too much like tobacco smoke and alcohol. Perfectly legal, but still annoying nonetheless.

Katara heard the glass door open behind her. She heard loud footsteps stumble onto the patio, and felt his breathing down her neck.

"Katie, what're you doing out here? Come inside, where the party is!" she heard a slurred voice say.

"I came out here to think. I'll be inside in a few minutes. And I thought I told you not to call me that."

"I'll call you whatever I want! And you're coming _now."_

She felt him pull her arm towards the building. When she struggled away, he slapped her. She held her face for a few seconds in one hand, but then turned away, tears streaming down her face.

"I've had it," she whispered.

"What's that? You need to speak louder, Katie. Normal people can't hear other people whispering!"

"I've had it! With you, with the world, with everything!" she shouted at him, still without turning around. Before he could answer, she stepped onto the bottom pole running as a barrier across the patio, and sat on the top one. She could really feel the wind in her face now, and even more so when she closed her eyes and felt herself falling- her heels slipping off her feet, her hair blown back behind her head, and him calling her name from the top of the building. He was so close, yet the voice was so far away.


	2. Chapter 2

There it was. That annoying ringing noise again. The tan young man opened his eyes, expecting to see his old-fashioned alarm clock vibrating on his end table. But no, it was his telephone. Sokka groaned. Didn't anybody have any common sense anymore? I mean, really. It was four-o-clock in the morning. Picking up the receiving end, Sokka had his mouth poised to tell off whoever was on the other line.

"Sokka?"

"Oh… hi Dad." Sokka was surprised. He hadn't talked to his dad in weeks, and he sounded like he'd been crying. Sokka hadn't seen his dad cry since his mom died. "What's wrong? And why are you calling at four in the morning?"

"It's about your sister. She… she died last night."

Sokka was in total shock. He couldn't say anything—it was like all moisture had suddenly left his throat, leaving him unable to speak. He adjusted the phone in his hand and tried again to speak, but it came out as a barely audible whisper. "H-how?"

"They said she jumped from an apartment building. My poor baby girl…"

"That doesn't sound like something Katara would do. I bet it was that bastard she was dating." Sokka's voice dropped. "It's my fault. I noticed those scars and bruises, then she stopped talking to me. I should've done something."

"It's not your fault--"

Sokka didn't hear his dad finish. He looked up to see the phone smashed against the floor, the cord tangled and hanging halfway out of the outlet. He stared at the mass of cracked plastic before tears came in his eyes and blinded his vision.

* * *

The 22-year-old wasn't sure if he should be driving, so he walked to SoHo on foot. He stormed down the sidewalk, finally making his way into an all-too familiar apartment complex. Had he not been so furious, Sokka would have broken down crying right then and there when he remembered coming here with her when she was first considering buying an apartment here.

Five minutes later, he was at the door of an apartment that he had never been inside but knew the address of. He knocked on the door lightly, resisting the urge to punch a hole in the door and ripping the apartment's occupant to shreds.

The knob turned slowly, and a man about Sokka's age answered the door. He looked casual at first, but his eyes widened when he saw Sokka at the door.

"Hey, are you Katie's brother? Look, I'm really sorry…" the boy said, trying to close the door. Sokka held it open.

"Her name's Katara. And I know what you did to her. I don't know why, but you are sick, you bastard! You might as well have killed her yourself!"

With that, Sokka forced the door open and shoved Derrick into the wall. "How do you like it?" He hit him a couple more times, so caught up in rage and grief and hatred that he was barely aware of what he was doing until he saw a much more humbled Derrick laying on the ground looking up at Sokka in fear, blood running from his nose and collecting at his chin, his right eye turning purple, and blood on Sokka's shirt sleeve.

Taking in a deep breath, Sokka put on his jacket to hide his bloody sleeve and turned to leave. "I hope you rot in Hell," he mumbled before walking through the door.

* * *

**A/N**: I don't know if it was just me, but Sokka seemed just a little OOC in here. I got the idea for the confrontation with Derrick after watching "The Deserter" again. He was pretty close to breaking Aang's arm. Third chapter should be up soon!


End file.
